


my home in you

by putsch



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Character Development, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putsch/pseuds/putsch
Summary: "His skin was my home, and his arms were my home, and his voice was the voice I heard when I didn’t know where to go, and needed someone to tell me." -Rose Christo, Overlooked(written for SASO2017)





	my home in you

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt here: https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/23665.html?thread=14227569#cmt14227569
> 
> some very minor manga spoilers. i went ham on the imagery and i dont give enough fucks to say sorry

it started with an extended hand, it started with a choke up voice saying _i like you, as a person_ to lay down the foundation he didn't fully understand yet. because back then, mihashi was fumbling for a lifeline to keep him afloat over his own mistakes. he wasn't capable of imagining something permanent for himself, not on a the mound, not on a team, and certainly not with a catcher. not after he was so easily burned before on all of them, just when he thought he was safe.  
  
but the foundation now poured out in his heart had a flourished on it's own, irregardless of the ruins behind him. every time someone told him _nice pitching_ after practice, or worried about his health before a game, it became stronger. the moments they all spent holding hands and moments spent together outside of practice, the framework grew, became a more solid thing where mihashi could see himself in abe's ever-sturdy heart.  
  
it wasn't a perfect construction - the littlest things could still shake him. any time a hitter got a good shot off of him, when he got yelled at, when he couldn't say what he means, and worst of all any time they lost. any time he had to turn around and see abe looking angry at him, or worse, upset. it allowed his old anxieties sweep back in, pushing and creaking against his newfound home with the age old questions that always scared him. was he really good enough? should he really be here? on this team? the mound?  
  
does he even deserve this chance?  
  
and yet every time, abe would grab his hand all over again, say _he's_ the one that's sorry, that they'll be better next time, that he'll listen, he swears. that he's the one who needs to get better.  
  
it makes mihashi's heart pound in a whole new way, setting things right again. things might shake between them, but the foundation would always be there, keeping mihashi standing so no matter how many times the world cracks and shakes around him it can always grow back bigger and stronger.  
  
he always thought that even the littlest things would be enough. the holding hands, the fact that he was allowed to shake his head or be just as much of the one to worry when abe didn't know his way around a cutting board or a rice cooker. but the more he learned, the more he wants to have all of it, categorized by the things that made abe smile to what made him laugh or cry or yell. he wanted to know what made abe soft around the edges, the way abe knew it about him.  
  
he wanted what he started building to be more than just a foundation, more than framework. he wanted a home, a place in abe that was always safe like the space between his arms, where abe would always give the signal and let him in.


End file.
